


A Pilgrim’s Song

by Joxmarf



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Link makes bad puns, Mute Link, One-Shot, Tarot, Zelda deliberately ignores them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26442373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joxmarf/pseuds/Joxmarf
Summary: Zelda and Link go to a festival together.Zelda discovers she’s a stranger in her own kingdom.Link gets his fortune read.
Relationships: Link & Zelda, Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 112





	A Pilgrim’s Song

The tavern smelt of alcohol, copper, and warm bread. 

The sweet, lustrous notes of a lute reached her ears, accompanied by the soft singing of a bard, though its honeyed tune got lost in the chattering and the laughter of the public. Zelda scowled, her ears twitching slightly as she focused on the music. She wanted to _listen_. Rarely did she hear the voices of her kingdom sing so freely. 

_A song of wine and mirth_

_puts thy heart at ease._

_Walk in, pilgrim!_

_Sit with friends and feast._

How hadn’t she heard this song before? It wasn’t like the tunes played at the Castle, solemn and imbued with centuries of history, old enough to hear the dust in the notes. No, this melody was inviting, joyful.

Link tapped his fingers on the table along to the beat. _So he knows the song,_ Zelda thought. Everyone in the tavern seemed to. Some sang out-of-tune, others clapped along. Most, however, treated the melody as background noise, exhibiting how blatantly familiar it was to them. The bard, oblivious to the public, plucked his lute with closed eyes, singing as if the lyrics were ingrained in the marrow of his being.

Zelda didn’t know the lyrics. 

With a sigh, she reached for a rusty fork. The princess pinched a piece of bread, dipping it in the sauce on the table’s center. She took a tiny bite, daintily and with care. Garlic, bread, and tomato combined into a flavour that, despite being common, was delicious. 

Link, who sat across from her, told her to use her hands. As demonstration, he took a piece of bread and submerged it in the condiment. 

“That’s unhygienic,” replied Zelda, furrowing her brow. “You pushed the door when we walked in, and…”

She stopped mid-sentence, the tips of her ears reddening like the wings of a ladybug. Zelda was doing it again: she was discarding Link’s advice as if it were naught. His words probably came from a place of concern. After all, her good manners could reveal her identity to the perceptive eye. 

It had been selfish to ask for his help. Zelda had been the source of Link’s headaches until recently, and their relationship was yet rocky. She often messed up and said the wrong thing, and his silence felt judgemental despite her knowing better. 

Her petition had been childish, ridiculously so. As a princess, Zelda had never gotten to experience the raw amusement of The Nightbloom Festival, so she had asked Link to help her sneak out of the castle.

Zelda had declared she would go through with her plan regardless of his help, thus Link had agreed to go with her. So here they were, cramped in the corner of a tavern, having “fun.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. His head was tilted to the right, eyes fixed on the stage. His expression was blank, though there was an intensity to it. 

For a moment, the scorch of resentment took over her, quick and inevitable. 

Of course _Link_ knew the lyrics.

A bouncing round of applause deviated her attention to the stage. The bard was bowing, reciting a speech of gratitude that scattered through the room and reached no one’s ears. He left the wooden platform with small steps, and without music, the chatter became more obnoxious, pressing Zelda’s ears.

“I’m so delighted to be here,.” she said, though she wasn’t sure. “Do you come here often?”

Link looked at her fondly. 

_“Used to. With friends.”_

“I can’t believe we managed to sneak out,” she continued, deliberately ignoring his comment. She didn’t know what to reply. Was he implying they were friends? “If everything goes accordingly, my father won’t have a clue. Everyone thinks we’re commoners.” 

She had been extremely cautious to choose her clothes. A cloak over her shoulders turned her into a black silhouette, concealing her golden locks. She wore no pendants nor silky gowns, but a cotton tunic and loose pants.

Link, on the other hand, wore his Champion’s Tunic. To her dismay, he even had the Master Sword strapped on his back. “ _People will think it’s a costume_ ,” he’d said. The worst of all? He’d been absolutely correct _._ Ever since they had left the castle, Link had been receiving compliment after compliment on his ‘excellent replica of the Master Sword´.

_“I’m a commoner,”_ Link replied, his signs ungainly and fast, almost upset.

Zelda had the urge to disagree. He was Hylia’s Chosen Hero. There was nothing common about him. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t go out of her way to upset him. It wasn’t worth it.

She struggled to keep the conversation going. Link wasn’t exactly talkative, and more often than not she caught his gaze fixed on a distant point. She knew (or rather hoped) it wasn’t intentional. Silence made her restless, and just when she was about to break it, Link moved his hands in a rush, his lips curling into a smile. 

_“I should get on the stage and sing,”_ he joked. 

“Leave it to the professionals,” Zelda replied, chuckling. She couldn’t picture Link on a stage, seeking the attention of the public. It was jarring, almost counter-intuitive. 

_“That would be M-U-T-E-A-L-L-Y beneficial, yes.”_

Zelda frowned, opening her mouth to correct her friend’s spelling, but then the pun dawned on her. She fisted her hand and circled it against her chest, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. _Sorry._

_“It’s okay,”_ Link replied. _“It was a joke.”_

A heavy silence sank down on them. Her old self would have snapped at him, unable to endure the tension. 

A yell startled them both, their heads turning to the source in unison. At the other corner of the tavern, a man was pointing accusingly at someone. Laughter drowned whatever curses he spat. After a few moments, he took a deep breath and grabbed a handful of cards, his face livid.

“What is…?”

_“He probably lost a bet,”_ Link answered. 

“Can we leave?” Zelda asked. She wanted to do more than sit awkwardly in a tavern. She hadn’t wanted Link to notice, and the incident was perfect to conceal the true reason for her request.

Link slipped a purple rupee from his pouch and set it on the wooden table. They stood up and left, unnoticed. 

Outside, the streets bustled with laughter and chatter, melodies clashing against each other as they fought to be heard. Most people wandered from stall to stall, their faces unrecognizable under the farol lights. Money flowed like wine, and wine flowed indeed. The Nightbloom Festival blew life into the city. It was a chaotic sight, vibrant and rich.

Zelda tried to engrain the scene in her memory and turned to Link, her eyes gleaming, “Shall we?” 

He nodded. 

They mingled with the crowd. Zelda looked around, taking in every detail she could. Children ran, playing a game of tag; concerned mothers rushed after them. At a booth, a merchant was huddled over his products, tossing dirty looks to anyone suspicious who dared approach his stall. 

The interactions between people made and sustained urban life; they were the substance of the city. 

They visited stall after stall. The Nightbloom Festival brought visitors from every corner of Hyrule, and so, Zelda had the opportunity to speak with Gorons, Ritos, Gerudos, and Zoras. She listened to their concerns intently, taking mental notes. Once or twice she was tempted to engage in political dialogues, though she knew it would reveal her identity.

“An ancient technology booth!” Zelda exclaimed, cutting through the crowd with quick steps. She tugged Link’s hand, dragging him alongside her. He had insisted on holding her hand, concerned she would get lost. Zelda was too immersed in her surroundings to mind. 

Ancient screws, gears, and cores were scattered on the table. The princess studied them, puckering her lips. She put her hands on her hips and looked up at the Sheikah merchant.

“How did you get them?” she asked.

“They are extremely difficult to acquire, as all Sheikah technology is,” he said, leaning closer to her. “However, I do have some contacts at the castle…”

—

Link didn’t listen to the rest of the words, getting lost in the view. 

He missed Hateno. 

At the capital, everyone was a stranger to him, whereas at home, festivals were more like a family reunion. Hateno smelt of honey and apples. Castle Town did not. Hateno had mountains that reached the sky, whilst the capital only had houses with blue roofs, as if compensating for their lack of height. 

Link scowled, his gaze drifting from the merry scene. He spotted a colorless stall, almost unnoticeable in the sea of bright booths. _‘Tarot reading’,_ the worn-out sign said.

He poked Zelda’s shoulder. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, raising an eyebrow.

_“I’m going there,”_ he said, pointing at the booth. She didn’t turn to see, waving him off.

Link turned away and cut through the crowd with long strides. Rather than a rational interest, what attracted him to the booth was a luring surge of energy that pulled him in and left no room for thought. Instinctual, overwhelming. 

He glanced over his shoulder back at Zelda. She was laughing at some joke, covering her mouth to hide her smile, as princesses did. Uneasiness washed over him, almost as strong as the string of energy that guided him to the stall. The Nightbloom Festival was a mass event. Link had agreed to her request because otherwise she would’ve hated him again, and being resented by the one he was to protect had made a nightmare of his job. It had been selfish— _imprudent_ to accept her offer. The best course of action would’ve been to notify the King immediately. 

Link stopped dead on his tracks, tempted to turn back. 

As if sensing his apprehension, Zelda spared him a glance. Their gazes met, and the flutter of anxiety in his chest receded. With new-found confidence, Link approached the Tarot stall. 

His gaze fixed on the woman running the stall. She was an old lady, her frame small and quivering. She wore a shawl over her shoulders, but the cloth was so damaged one could call it a rag. When the old woman smiled at him, Link caught the glint of a golden tooth.

She gestured calmly. _What brings you here, young man?_

Link was flabbergasted. Never had a stranger addressed him by default in sign language. _Never._

_“You sign,”_ he said.

“Indeed I do,” spoke the old lady, which disappointed Link. He had been looking forward to having a conversation in his language. “I read hands, after all.”

Link snorted.

The old woman smiled, though her demeanour held an air of seriousness. Link sensed the atmosphere, his face morphing into a blank expression. She was waiting for him to explain himself and excuse his presence. The problem? Link didn’t know how to put into words what had lured him there. 

His hands rose, his movements too quick to be natural, _“I would like a reading.”_

The old lady arched an eyebrow, intrigued. She reached for her tarot deck and shuffled it, ancient hands mixing Minor and Major Arcana. Link shifted on his feet, letting the weight accumulate on one leg before bouncing it to the other.

“What do you seek in the cards?” 

Link was caught off guard. He remained silent, pondering. Did he seek guidance? No. The Master Sword was a heavy weight on his back, a sharp reminder of what he ought to be. Link didn’t like the path traced for him, yet he knew it to be his. Did he seek answers, then? He had questions swarming in his soul, thousands of them aimed at the Goddess and _only_ the Goddess. Nothing the Arcana would be able to answer. 

_“I want to know if…if I’ll be freed from my duty,”_ his hands knocked together awkwardly, and Link had to repeat himself. He knew that wasn't Tarot's purpose. The wisdom in a card came from introspection, from reflecting one’s soul as a mirror. The cards were a pathway to intuition, not the future. 

_Still,_ Link wanted the cards to tell him when he would be free from the chains of destiny.

“A three card spread will do, then.” 

Link nodded. He had no idea what that was.

The old woman divided the deck and asked him to choose one. Link did so quickly, his finger pointing at the one on the right. Both looked the same, though only one had drawn his attention. How could identical objects suscitate different emotions? He hadn’t a clue.

With outstanding patience, the old woman placed one by one the cards on the countertop. Minutes or mere seconds could have passed before she asked him to pick three. Link blinked, focusing on the task. His hand, as if pulled by an intangible lace, chose quickly. The woman swiped the rest of the cards away and placed his picks at the center.

“The first card corresponds to the past, the second to the present, and the last one to the future,” the woman said “Unfortunately, they can’t predict dates nor future events, but I hope you find the reading helpful, Hero.”

Link widened his eyes, raising his hands to ask how she knew his identity. However, his surprise dissipated when the old woman flipped the first card, and his attention drifted to the reading.

_Death reversed._

The card was an intricate work of art. The image was gentle, as if seeking to paint death in a benevolent light. The skeleton, sitting on a white stallion, was clothed in armour. It held a sickle and an empty hourglass, and though Link didn’t know why, its sockets appeared to pulsate with forlorn grief. Blooming roses were laid at its feet; a weeping woman begged to be spared. Behind, a pale sun was setting, dying just to be reborn the next day and die again.

_Well shit,_ Link thought.

“Not a bad pick… if you understand its message,” the woman said, tapping the card with thoughtful fingers. “Death is a herald of change. We mustn't resist it. We can’t adapt to what we refuse, and only acceptance is the catalyst to new beginnings.”

Link furrowed his brow, taking in the old lady’s words. The card was unsettlingly accurate. His life _had_ turned upside down after having pulled the Master Sword from its pedestal, but the poignant burden of being the Hero was something he had come to terms with. 

_“I understand.”_

“Do you?”

Link’s lips turned into a pale line. Sometimes he couldn't… he couldn’t help to miss his old life, his family, his friends.That had made him miserable for a long time, but it had eventually become bearable. Things weren’t excellent, but they _were_ better. That is what mattered. 

_“Yes.”_

His response satisfied the old lady. She flipped the next card with her bony fingers.

_Tower upright._

Link scratched his ear nervously. While he didn’t know much about Tarot, even he understood a card called ‘The Tower of Destruction’ meant bad news.

It depicted a tall tower sitting on a rocky mountain. The building had been struck by lighting, and debris and loose stones accompanied a crown in the fall. Two figures, a man and a woman, leapt from the collapsing structure, arms outstretched to the sky. Their fates were sealed, though their expressions still glinted with pathetic hope. They mingled desperation with faith, terror with peacefulness, surrender with resistance. 

Link didn’t like the card. There was an inevitability— a tragic hue —to it that made him shiver. It was a scene of chaos, of upheaval. The tower was a solid structure, yet what had brought it down had been a lightning strike, a mere caprice of chance. 

If Death was a herald of change, the Tower was change _itself._ Link found that unfair. As if he hadn’t had enough of it already… 

“The Tower means massive change. It may be painful, but surrendering is the only way forward. The tower- the structure on which you may have built your beliefs or your life- are unstable. If you don’t wish to tumble with them, you must leap. Sometimes, destruction allows clearance.”

_“Sounds like Death, but more aggressive.”_

The old lady chuckled, the sound hoarse and fragile, “Death is the hint of a thunderstorm. The Tower is its consequences.” 

Link frowned. The card represented the present, which meant he was on the verge of a cataclysm. 

_“I don’t want that,”_ Link signed, sternly. He knew that went against the advice of the Tarot, but was he to blame? He just wanted to live in peace. 

“Bah,” the old woman said, discarding his childish words. “Life doesn’t work that way, kid. Anyways, take note of the cracks on your tower. An alternative to sudden change is palatine transformation.” 

Link nodded, pretending he understood.

The woman flipped the final card..

_The Fool upright._

Its design was the simplest of all Major Arcana. A man, one feet hovering over a precipice, his gaze fixed on the sky above. A knapsack resting on his shoulder, his hand holding a white rose, a dog barking at his feet: all emblems of the journey that awaited him. Mountains, its sharp peaks looming in the distance. Defiant, patient. However, the fool didn’t look at them. The thrill of his expedition was greater. 

The old lady smiled, clasping her senile hands together. 

“An interesting card, especially for the future,” she said.

Link didn’t take things at face value, but for once he wanted to. 

The Fool meant boundless freedom. It was an invitation to take a leap of faith. Not one to escape from a collapsing building, but one to explore the unknown and have fun. 

The old lady tapped her chin thoughtfully, “It’s an abrupt drift from the other cards, but Tarot is a form of storytelling. Time will reveal the dots we are overlooking.”

Link quickly thought of a story based on the cards, quiet relief washing over him: Death alluded to his duty as the Hero, the Tower to the Calamity, and the Fool to the liberty he would have once it was defeated. He smiled lightly. Sometimes he forgot that, once the fiend was banished, he would be _free_.

_“How much…”_ Link reached for his pouch, signing with his free hand. _“How much do I owe you?”_

“Link!” his head snapped to the direction of Zelda’s voice. She was cutting her way through the crowd, smiling at him. Most of her visage was concealed by her black hood, but the happiness she irradiated made her stand out. 

Once they were side by side, Zelda arched an eyebrow. “Why did you come here? There 's nothing.”

_“Tarot reading,”_ Link said, turning to the old lady to introduce her. His hands fell on his sides in utter shock, for he was met by the sight of an alleyway. No Tarot booth at all.

“Really?” Zelda asked, though the way she narrowed her eyes gave away her scepticism. “Are you okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Link scratched his head, running his fingers through his hair before replying, _“Of G-H-O-S-T I’m okay. It’s just... “_ he shrugged, waving it off. 

Zelda made a face, looking pointedly at the alleyway and back at him. 

“Okay,” she said after a beat, though there was a tinge of doubt in her voice. “How was your reading?”

Link grinned, _“I got called a fool. Didn’t need Tarot to know that.”_

It had been a joke, but Zelda took it seriously. “No one thinks that.”

_“In Rito Village, you…”_

Her resolve faltered at his words. She shook her head vehemently, an embarrassed blush tainting her cheeks.

“We _don’t_ talk about Rito Village,” she said. “Besides, I was the fool that day.”

_“No one thinks that,”_ Link said, echoing her words.

“Revali did.”

_“Revali thinks a fool of everyone.”_

Zelda said nothing. Thinking about that incident embarrassed her. She had been so rude, so childish. Link shrugged it off with the most uncaring shrug she’d ever seen and, even though neither of them had suggested it, they started heading back to the castle. 

“Did you know there are clandestine operations in the castle?” Zelda asked.

_“I suspected.”_

Zelda reached for his hand. It was getting late, and she knew Castle Town’s nightlife to be dangerous. 

“There are thieves who steal ancient material. They aren’t high-quality pieces, but…”

Zelda shrugged. Through carefully-crafted questions, she had gotten enough information to dismantle the operations. A word to her father would have them all punished, though she didn’t seek such harsh consequences. She ought to speak with Robbie and Purah first.

She almost tripped on her feet when Link stopped walking. His eyes were drawn to the heart of the town, his eyebrows raised in recognition.

“What?” Zelda said, glaring at him. 

She followed his gaze. They looked at the centre of town, where a rather picturesque scene played. To the sound of lutes, tambourines, and harps, people danced around the fountain as planets orbit the sun. However, there was no harmony. Couples crashed together and the tumult of laughter and conversation nearly drowned the music. 

Link touched his ear, a playful smile tugging his lips. _Listen._

Zelda sharpened her ear, distinguishing a playful, familiar tune. As at the tavern, voices sang along, turning the cold night into something lively. 

_A song of wine and mirth_

_puts thy heart at ease._

“It’s the song from the tavern,” she said, awed. The satisfaction of the _click_ , the sense of fulfillment that came with making the connection, made her smile.

Zelda turned to Link. How had he known she had been fascinated by the song? Was he _that_ perceptive? Perhaps he hadn’t known and he was just happy to remind her of the song they had listened to together.

“Link,” she said. He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. Zelda cleared her throat, feigning confidence. She took a deep breath and held out her hand, “May I have this dance?” 

Link fixed his gaze on her palm, his face turning beet red. His hands knocked together, the signs barely understandable, _“Don’t know how.”_

Zelda laughed fondly. She was aware of that. At the Champions’ Ball, he had stepped on her feet at least six times. “Don’t worry.” 

Link accepted her hand, hesitant. His face was as red as a tomato.

_“Alright. I mean, What’s the W-A-L-T-Z that could happen?”_

Zelda rolled her eyes, though she was smiling.

“The worst that could happen?” she said, mischievous. “You could step on my feet again.” 

Link didn’t reply, but a small smile graced his lips. He placed a shy hand at her waist, his other hand intertwining with hers. Zelda looked at his face. The intensity of his gaze, which she had seen many times, was fixed on her. 

Zelda grinned as she pulled Link into the crowd. She didn’t know the lyrics of the song, but she hummed along, which was a start. The music was loud, drowning her thoughts and making her as light as a feather. She was soaring, twirling, laughing. The beat hummed in her bones. The single thing that kept her grounded was Link’s touch. 

Eventually, they stopped dancing, standing together under the night sky. They moved slowly, almost clumsily. Link had said nothing ever since they had started dancing, but he needn’t to. 

“Thank you,” she said. Not because she hadn’t said it before, but because he kept giving her reasons to be grateful. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> link then proceeded to ruin the moment by stepping on her foot. again. 
> 
>   
> thanks to @thatisnotzelda for betaing! 
> 
> thanks for reading! sorry for the grammar mistakes, as english isn’t my first language.


End file.
